


The Silence of a Storm

by Zoadgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, just kissing, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every planning session is the same. Clarke storms into Bellamy’s tent heedless of what he might be doing at the time, glares at him until he acknowledges her, and then raises what seems to be every possible issue in the world with him. Planning together is never fun, both of them certain their idea is better than the other’s, and unwilling to compromise until they’ve beaten the issue to death thoroughly. They end up having really good ideas, most of the time, but it’s a trial at the best.</p>
<p>And then the rain starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silence of a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> _hi!! are you still taking requests?? i'd love a piece where an awful downpour catches bellamy & clarke in his tent while making plans and they have to stay in for several hours together just talking and maybe arguing? and like if it goes any farther that's totally up to you haha??? love your writing!! :)_

It’s a planning session like any other. Clarke storms into Bellamy’s tent heedless of what he might be doing at the time, glares at him until he acknowledges her, and then raises what seems to be every possible issue in the world with him. Planning together is never fun, both of them certain their idea is better than the other’s, and unwilling to compromise until they’ve beaten the issue to death thoroughly. They end up having really good ideas, most of the time, but it’s a trial at the best.

And then the rain starts. A few drops, which don’t even register with the argumentative pair, is all the incredibly brief warning they get. There is no gradual onset. A few drops fall, and then the clouds dump their loads over the forest. It’s so sudden that Bellamy actually jumps and looks around before realizing the roar is the sound of rain and not some beast they had yet to encounter.

“Shit.” Clarke only ever swears around Bellamy, saying she thinks it makes her seem less intelligent and she can’t afford that around the delinquents. Bellamy likes to imagine that they hear things a little better when he says he’ll fucking gut them if they don’t obey, but Clarke can, and will, do whatever she wants.

“What’s the matter, princess, afraid of a little rain?” He can’t help but tease her. He doesn’t know why, but it’s just so satisfying to make the normally composed girl fall apart.

“Only slightly concerned about hypothermia or pneumonia, if I can’t get dry. This is all your fault, you know.” She narrows her eyes as she turns on him, and Bellamy raises his hands in mock surrender at the anger in her voice.

“Woah, how do you see that?” He’s still smiling, mostly because he knows it pisses her off.

“If you weren’t so damnably stubborn about assigning people to help me gather herbs-“

“Let me stop you right there.” She looks even angrier as he cuts her off, but Bellamy is not getting into this again. “We can’t spare guards just to gather herbs. The fact that I let you have one hour with guards tomorrow is criminal enough! If the Grounders should attack-”

“We’ll need herbs to treat the injuries that people will sustain! And one hour is not enough time to get half the stuff I need, unless you give me Jasper or a couple of builders.” She has a point, but he can’t spare those workers. He would go himself, but they can’t leave the camp unattended with the threat of Grounder invasion looming over their heads.

“Jasper is working on making more gunpowder, and the builders are improving our defences. We can’t do without them, or we will die when retaliation comes.” His smile drops as Clarke fights with him over the point. Again.

“Great then we’ll die a week after, when infection starts to kill people.” The distance between them has slowly been closing to the point where they could throw blows if they were so inclined. Instead of attacking, they just cross their arms and stare at each other. It’s almost like animals locking gaze for dominance.

In the seclusion that the rain storm has provided, Bellamy notices more about Clarke than he’s ever had the chance to before. He can hear the quickened pace of her breath, frustration causing her chest to rise and fall slightly quicker. There’s a slight sunburn dusting the ridge of her nose and the tips of her ears. Even though she’s been on Earth and out in the sun as much as any of them, her skin is still pale and likes to turn pink rather than tan. He can see the little hairs that fly away from the main mass, seeming impossibly thin in the light of the candles he’d set up earlier.

His eyes flick briefly to her lips before Bellamy catches himself. He can’t think about Clarke that way. Not only would it complicate things, Clarke would probably kill him if he tried to do anything. He gives himself a mental kick for even contemplating what the consequences of trying anything would be, as if he wanted to make a move on her.

“You’re completely impossible, you know that?” Clarke’s gaze is still frighteningly intense locked on his. So Bellamy just shrugs and drops his eyes for a second, breaking the stillness of that moment.

“I’m not the only one who’s impossible, princ-“ Bellamy’s cut off again, but not with words as earlier in the night. Instead he feels a pair of lips press to his own, hard enough to verge on painful. It’s quick enough that Bellamy doesn’t have a chance to react.

“I hate that nickname.” Clarke’s arms are still crossed, but now her gaze holds a challenge to him. Daring him to acknowledge what just happened or, if he dares, act in turn with her decision. A smile returns to Bellamy’s face in a slow stretch of his lips.

“Well, what are you going to do about it, _princess_?” He completes the name this time, and there’s a heartbeat of stillness. He honestly couldn’t say which one of them moved forward first, perhaps they did it in unison, but it doesn’t matter in the end.

All that matters to him after their lips meet is memorizing every detail of every second that his body is in contact with her. They move together, all heat and passion. Clarke bites his lower lip hard before sucking it into her mouth for a moment, and Bellamy feels the pain and subsequent comfort race through him like fire on oil. He groans against her lips and moves to pull Clarke flush against him, hands wrapping over her hips and gripping hard. He can feel her smile as she rolls her hips against him, drawing a moan from him.

His mouth detaches from hers to move over the rest of her skin, tasting her jaw and sucking light marks down her throat until he reaches the junction of her neck and shoulder. He nibbles at the skin lightly, enjoying the pleased hum she gives him in return. His hands toy with the edge of her shirt, slipping just under the edge before grasping it to pull it off. But then he feels smaller hands on his wrists, stopping him with the lightest pressure.

“Not yet, okay?” Her voice is uncertain, but Bellamy’s hands immediately let go of her shirt and go back to smoothing over her back.

“Of course.”

“It’s just-“ Bellamy cuts her off with another kiss, sweeter than the last.

“You don’t need to explain, Clarke. You say stop, and I’ll stop. No matter what we’re doing, or what’s happening. It’s called respect. Okay?” Of course he would listen to her explanation if she wants to tell him, but he feels like she should know that the reason doesn’t matter that much. If any girl, let alone Clarke, tells him no, Bellamy stops. There’s no reason in his mind not to listen to such a simple command.

“Okay.” Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. “But we can still do the kissing thing, right?”

“Of course.” He presses to her again for a brief second, before drawing away and adding with mock admonishment, “You’re not getting any more workers, though.”

Clarke laughs as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Ass.”

“Princess.” Bellamy is fairly certain that if she keeps kissing him every time he uses that nickname, he’ll never stop.

They end up curled on his bed, listening to the storm rage outside and not talking about anything except for to occasionally make suggestions about camp. And suddenly Bellamy finds it far easier to agree with Clarke, and she seems to compromise with less of a struggle. Maybe planning sessions won’t suck as much in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this prompt aaaages ago and only just wrote it. Turns out that even riding my motorcycle across Canada for 6-7 hours a day leaves me feeling way more rested than working does. As always edited by the ever patient [coldsaturn!](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com)
> 
> Come talk with me [on tumblr!](http://randommaces.tumblr.com) Thanks in advance for commenting/viewing/leaving kudos <3


End file.
